THE KILLERS – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

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“The current cycle of crime films is a vicarious way to participate in the crime wave without committing a crime. That feeling is latent within each of us. Everybody wants to get even with somebody.” – Lee Marvin in a January 1969 interview with Playboy magazine

The first feature-length adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s short story, “The Killers” was directed by Robert Siodmak in 1946 and featured a young Burt Lancaster and Ava Gardner as the two leads. It was a simple tale of a man who had hit rock bottom so badly that he allowed two hitmen to kill him. The doomed man was the focus of Siodmark’s film while, on the surface, it may seem that Don Siegel’s 1964 film version is all about doomed race car driver Johnny North. After all, he is given the bulk of The Killers’ screen time through flashbacks by the people that knew and loved him. However, Siegel drops in subtle visual clues throughout the film to suggest that the film is actually about the two professional killers with an emphasis on the elder more experienced one, Charlie, played by Lee Marvin. It is interesting to note that the first and last image of the film is of Charlie – the first tip off that this is his story and not North’s.

A great, menacing soundtrack by John Williams plays over the opening credits and immediately establishes the tough tone of Siegel’s film. Charlie and Lee (Clu Gulager) are ultra-cool, well-dressed hitmen that have been hired to kill ex-race car driver Johnny North (John Cassavetes) — now working as a teacher at a school for the blind. Even though he’s warned in advance, North does nothing and just lets the two men kill him. Afterwards, Charlie is bothered by the job. Something just does not feel right. And so, he and Lee decide to track down the people that knew North and find out why their victim didn’t run when he had the chance.

Along with Point Blank (1967), The Killers is one of the finest performances of Marvin’s career. He exudes a calm, malevolent nature through the simplest gesture or look and has a deep, weathered voice that conveys a lifetime of experience. For example, in the opening scene when Charlie and Lee question the receptionist at the school for the blind about North, the younger hitman fidgets with the furniture, taking some flowers out of a vase, sniffing them while pouring the water out onto the desk. The veteran killer concentrates on the frightened woman. Marvin uses that great voice of his to get the information he wants, uttering the immortal line, “I’m sorry lady, we don’t have the time.” This won’t be the last time he says that line. This scene is simultaneously funny and filled with tension in the way that the two men carry themselves. And yet we never lose sight of the fact that Charlie and Lee are there for only one reason: to kill North. Nothing is going to get in their way.

After they kill North, we see a more relaxed, casual side of Charlie. He and Lee are traveling on a train. The younger hitman still has his tie, vest and sunglasses on while the elder killer looks much more relaxed with the top button of his dress shirt undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie and sunglasses removed. However, something is bothering Charlie. Why didn’t North try to make a run for it? Charlie and Lee got paid a lot of money for a simple hit. They also find out that North was part of a million dollar heist – where’s the money? They don’t know who hired them but Charlie wants to find out. He wants that million dollars as he tells his partner, “But me, I’m getting old. My hair’s turning gray, my feet are sore and I’m tired of running.” It this slight admission that he’s getting older that humanizes Charlie for a brief moment and provides motivation for their quest. Half of a million dollars would certainly allow Charlie to retire in style.

Charlie and Lee decide to track down the other accomplices in the heist. In order to do so, they find North’s mechanic (played with blubbery bluster by Claude Akins). As Charlie puts the pressure on him, he says once again, “We don’t have the time.” There is now a bit of urgency in Charlie’s methods. As he said earlier, he’s tired of running and it is this urgency that motivates him to track down the money.

However, Charlie and Lee hit a dead end with the mechanic and go out for dinner. An interesting thing happens during this scene. At first, a mildly depressed Charlie is unable to eat his “fine steak,” but after he gets an encouraging call and a tip on the whereabouts of another one of North’s accomplices, his mood changes instantly and he happily begins cutting into his food. Charlie has become reinvigorated and tells Lee that it just isn’t the money that he’s after: “But I gotta find out what makes a man decide not to run. Why all of the sudden he’d rather die?” (Incidentally, this question is what also convinced Marvin to do the film) However, it is this curiosity that will ultimately be Charlie’s undoing.

Marvin delivers an economic performance which helps convey the all-business attitude of his character. He belonged to a dying breed of actor that you just don’t see anymore. Most actors today, if they’re lucky, take a whole film to convey the kind of toughness that Marvin has naturally. “Tough guys” of today – Russell Crowe, Jason Statham, Clive Owen, et al – don’t even come close to someone like Marvin. You can just tell from the way he looks and acts that he would kill you if you ever got in his way. And this kind of hard living attitude carried over into the actor’s real life as he alluded to in a 1969 interview with Playboy magazine and in Don Siegel’s memoir, A Siegel Film. The director recalls how Marvin showed up drunk the first two days of principal photography. The actor became such a disruptive influence on the set that Siegel had to intervene. Instead of dressing him down in front of everybody, he talked to Marvin in private. According to Siegel, Marvin never showed up to work drunk again.

When Charlie and Lee finally confront the film’s heavy, Jack Browning, played by Ronald Reagan in an inspired bit of casting. It was the first and only time that he played a bad guy in a movie. Browning would also be his last film role before he went into politics. It’s great to see a casually intense actor like Marvin square off against a limited one like Reagan. Charlie paces back and forth across the room with a gun in his hand while Browning sits there stiff as a board playing dumb while he’s accused of ordering the hit on North. Marvin does an excellent job working the room and questioning Reagan’s character. He clearly owns this scene.

Charlie shows just how brutal he can be when he questioning North’s girlfriend, Sheila (Angie Dickinson), and doesn’t like her answers. So, he and Lee hang her out of a window high above the street, scaring the answers out of her. Sheila pleads for her life at the end of the film putting all of the blame on Jack who says nothing, grimly accepting his fate at the hands of the uncompromising Charlie. Even after Charlie shoots and kills Jack, Sheila continues to pathetically plead for her life and Charlie utters that immortal line, “Lady, I don’t have the time,” before shooting and killing her. He kills her last because it is revenge for North’s death. Through flashbacks we learn that she not only double-crossed the doomed race car driver but she broke his heart too.

However, the damage to Charlie has been done. He has been mortally wounded by a sniper rifle at the hands of Jack earlier on. Charlie staggers out onto the front lawn of Jack’s house just as the police arrive. In a haze, he points his right hand like a gun and collapses dead, the precious money he spent the entire film pursuing fluttering all around him. Siegel then cuts to a long shot of Charlie’s dead body with the money lying in the heart of suburbia with its manicured green lawns and tract houses.

Siegel’s film takes place mostly during the day with a bright color scheme. This is due largely because the picture was originally intended to be a made-for-television movie (the first of its kind) but the harsh depiction of violence was too much for NBC and it was eventually released theatrically. The artificial T.V. look, with its extensive use of rear projection, gives The Killers an almost surreal kind of feel that works surprisingly well. Even though it is bright and colorful, the attitude of the film is pure, gritty film noir. Life is cheap and the film concludes on an uncompromisingly nihilistic note as Siegel ends things with a hell of a final image that underlines the very thing that resulted in everyone’s demise: money.

BARRY LEVINSON’S WAG THE DOG — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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I can vividly remember the opening night for Wag the Dog – it was back in 1997, I was in high school becoming a budding film lover, and I went with a group of friends to see this bitter black comedy about Hollywood and politics and I can remember being one of the few people who outright loved it upon first glance. It was very topical material at the time, and still is today, with razor-sharp satire always at the forefront, and a whiff of pompous know-it-all-humor that probably alienated many people. Energetically directed by Barry Levinson and co-written by Hilary Henkin and David Mamet, Wag the Dog centers on a presidential sex scandal, and the Washington DC-based spin doctor (Robert De Niro, wonderfully affable and light on his feet) who is called in for crisis management by the White House. His idea? He’ll start a fake war with Albania and spread various media rumors and lies in an effort to deflect the country’s attention from the real scandal at hand. De Niro enlists the help of an aging, full-of-himself Hollywood mega-producer, perfectly played with smarmy glee by a bronzed and absurdly coifed Dustin Hoffman, who brings along his various production contacts so that he can “produce a war” that nobody will ever realize is fake. And one that he can, rather frustratingly, never tell anyone he had a part in creating.

The comic mileage that’s derived from this ironically painful fact for Hoffman is a constant source of hilarity all throughout this happy-to-be-mean little movie. An amazing supporting cast rounds out the brittle edges of this scathing media takedown, with Anne Heche, a diseased Woody Harrelson, rapid-fire Dennis Leary, Willie Nelson, Andrea Martin, John Michael Higgins, David Koechner, William H. Macy, and Kirsten Dunst all showing up for memorable cameos and bit performances. But the black heart and acidic soul of this punchy little movie belongs to the amazing team of De Niro and Hoffman, who both seemed to be in love with the idea of occupying the same space as one another, generating tremendous chemistry, and letting the zippy screenplay do most of the heavy lifting. Mamet and Henkin’s script throws out a variety of nastily barbed zingers, and Levinson’s snappy direction is in perfect tandem with Robert Richardson’s agile, hot-white cinematography. Also, the idea that this movie was released exactly one month before the Monica Lewinsky scandal broke is just too wild to contemplate.

Disney’s Zootopia: A Review by Nate Hill

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Disney’s Zootopia is the kind of animated film that passes with flying colors in just about every damn category it needs to, making it a thoroughly endearing classic that will stand the test of time and delight countless new fans as time goes on. It’s the best of its kind since last year’s Inside Out, and one that will be hard to top this time around. It’s got the most treasurable kind of story, one that has all the fun, flash and zip that the kids will take a shine to, some hilariously subversive and cheeky humour for the the adults to chuckle at, and some vital, important messages within its themes that adults will knowingly relate to, and the kids will subconsciously perceive. Never preachy nor pandering, all of its ingredients are mixed harmoniously. And let’s talk about that animation, good lord. Every year these films get more cutting edge and eye boggling, and this one busts the blueprints in its attempts to dazzle, with every kind of texture, glint and rendered gold on display. Animals of all shapes and sizes run, scamper, dart and dive throughout the film, to the point where I felt that only with multiple viewings could I appreciate every loving detail and subtle joke. Ginnifer Goodwin gives perky vocals to Judy Hops, a small town bunny who dreams of being a big city cop. Just leagues away from the tiny carrot farm she was raised on lies Zootopia, a sprawling metropolis where the denizens of the animal kingdom live in civilization, or rather, their brilliantly realized version of it. She is told time and time again that she’ll never become a cop, but pays no heed. And whadd’ya know, she becomes a cop. Left to rot on parking duty by stern bison Sergeant Bogo (growly Idris Elba) she fumes and longs for real action. Soon she meets wily fox and street hustler Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman in possibly the best vocal performance in years), and both are whisked away on an adventure through Zootopia to find some bad cats (and every other creature imaginable) who are up to no good. The city itself is a marvel in every sense of the word. Divided into detailed, vast and climatized zones including Tundra Town, Little Rodentia  (laughed hardest at this sequence, purely inspired) and a subtropical tree house lined Rainforest area. The cast has buckets of fun, including JK Simmons as Mayor Lionheart, Bonnie Hunt and Don Lake as Judy’s endearing parents, Tommy Chong as a yak hippie, Peter Mansbridge as Peter ‘Moosebridge’, and more. Shakira shows up essentially as herself in animal form, with an original composition called ‘Try Everything’ which gives the film a lot of its charm and heart. Bateman just has to be commended for a performance so full of real conflict and shades of grey its hard to belive hes playing a fox in a Disney flick. Despite being in the most hyper real of all genres, hes walked right out of real life amd nails every note. There’s so many highlights I could write for pages, but I won’t spoil the fun, of which there’s no end. There’s also a very grounded head on the film’s shoulders, saying some important  things about not giving up on your dreams (sounds clichéd, I know, but not the way the writing addresses it here), and never assuming one thing about a specific group of animals just because of the way a few of them behave. Subversive stuff for a kids movie, and I’d have it no other way, as the undercurrents of film forge minds and opinions for the young ones. Simply put, it’s destined to be a classic, and comes up a winner no matter how you look at it. Oh, and try not to bust a gut laughing at the sloth sequence, I dare you.

NOAH BAUMBACH’S MISTRESS AMERICA — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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After taking precise and damaging aim at family dynamics and interpersonal friendships in his early films (Kicking & Screaming, The Squid and The Whale, Margot at the Wedding), the astute and continually subversive filmmaker Noah Baumbach has recently switched gears a bit, with his acerbic sights set on wandering souls, millennial culture and societal expectations, with Greenberg, Frances Ha, While We’re Young, and most recently, Mistress America, forming some sort of thematically linked quartet. Co-written with co-star and wife Greta Gerwig, who knows how to play aimless, flighty and oblivious to an almost scary degree, the film charts the sideways struggle of a college freshmen named Tracy, played by the interesting actress Lola Kirke, who is seeking comfort and reassurance during an awkward, transitional period in her life. She’s a directionless student who has a hard time getting motivated, with her general apathy becoming challenged by her future stepsister Brooke (Gerwig), a free spirit and seeming jack-of-all-trades, a thirtysomething desperately wishing she was still a twentysomething, who jumps at any chance she can get to take an easy way out, clinging to anyone who might be able to help to continue keeping her afloat.

But at first, that’s not how Tracy views Brooke; she becomes emotionally smitten with her, looking up to her as a sort-of role model, until the picture becomes achingly clear: This is a person who hasn’t a clue how to live life. Baumbach loves to crush his targets with dry wit and harsh observation, and the way that he peels back the inherent phoniness of an entire generation of people with their constant “Me-Me” attitude speaks to his determination to portray cinematic millennial malaise in a way that few filmmakers have tried. Always critical of his characters and never interested in tying matters up with a neat bow, Baumbach and Gerwig’s script zeroes in on the situational aspects of the narrative (the screwball midsection is a highlight), and allows reflective character moments and dramatic beats to swim to the surface. This isn’t a flashy movie or attention getting from an aesthetic perspective, but rather, Baumbach wants his slim but potent film to rest confidently on its words and its message, which is often extremely funny in an all-too believable manner.

Neil Jordan’s Interview With The Vampire: A Review by Nate Hill

  

Neil Jordan’s film version of Interview With The Vampire is simultaneously one of the most sumptuous and tedious visions of the affliction to ever hit cinema. On the one hand, it’s an absolutely gorgeous, atmospheric and old worlde glance at two damned souls who carry out their macabre destiny with flair and vicious grace. I say tedious as some kind of bitter compliment, because no other film has quite captured the internal torture of eternity or the nocturnal gloom that must prevail over such an existence quite as well as this film has. It barely runs over two hours and we feel like we’ve been planted in front of the screen for years. Such is the dedication of director Jordan, a sneakily versatile gent who augments his stylistic and tonal approach to whatever material he is working with. The film is exciting and raises a pulse, but only on its terms, and for long periods of time we sit through languishing despair that no doubt adds to the mood, but exists to serve the psyches of our two leads, and dares the viewer to suffer alongside them. I have somewhat of a bone to pick with certain producers behind the scenes who no doubt had a forceful hand in the casting of Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. You see, author Ann Rice had her heart set on a filmic version starring Rutger Hauer as Lestat, and Lance Henriksen as Louie. Now, Cruise and Pitt are at the utter opposite end of casting types in Hollywood, and while Jordan is never a guy to compromise or chase stars right off that bat, I am still sour when I think of the film we’ll never see, starring two actors infinitely more fascinating and vampiric that Brad and Tom. Nevertheless, I have som much appreciation for the film that I can’t take it too hard, and remain a steadfast fan. Pitt plays Louie, a depressed Louisiana plantation owner with nothing left, especially to lose. He meets roaming vampire Lestat (Cruise), who promptly turns him, and the two embark on a century spanning odyssey of nighttime escapades, thoroughly fraught with homoeroticism. It’s isn’t so much an organized narrative as it is a lengthy look at these two, trapped by their condition and making the bitter best of it. They meet others along the way, including Armand (a slinky Antonio Banderas), Santiago (Jordan regular Stephen Rhea, lively evil incarnate) and Claudia, a child who Louie turns. She’s played by Kirsten Dunst in the best performance of the film. A young girl with the vampire curse thrust upon her at such an age, who mentally matures into a steely, furious woman trapped in the body of a ten year old. Not many actresses could succeed at that, but she is a spitfire little shryke who dominates every scene. All this is being retold by Louie to a 1990’s journalist (Christian Slater) who morphs from bemused disbelief to cold terror, and eventual morbid fascination. It’s a slog to get through, but an ornately beautiful one with some really bloody effects and the always terrific stewardship of Neil Jordan, whose films are never short of mesmerizing, whichever genre they fall into. A dark, dingy horror with lacy elegance at its core. 

PTS PRESENTS: 15 QUESTIONS WITH OSCAR NOMINATED FILMMAKER LENNY ABRAHAMSON

In a very short period of time, rising star filmmaker Lenny Abrahamson has crafted an exceptional and challenging body of cinematic work, with his most recent film, the Oscar winner Room (Brie Larson, Best Actress), becoming one of the most celebrated pictures from 2015, with Abrahamson receiving a nomination for Best Director. He recently spoke with Nick about his career, his inspirations, the success of Room and Frank, his Irish roots, and what’s in store for the future. We hope you all enjoy!

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I just wanted to say, at the start, what a fan I am of the film Frank. That movie totally took me by surprise and to see your further cinematic progression with Room is really striking. I tell everyone I know to see Frank. It’s really not like much else I’ve seen.

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Thank you very much! Yeah, we got lucky with Frank, that was something that was very unique, and to have Fassbender involved meant that this challenging little film might get a proper audience. The script was perfectly balanced, and the material really resonated with me.

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You rose through the ranks io the Irish film industry, which is a country having a major cinematic boom right now. What’s it like to be a part of this new wave of talent?

I’ve been very lucky to be supported by the Irish Film Board, the IFB, and because of them, myself and so many other filmmakers have been given a chance to make films and tell interesting stories that mean something to us personally. That’s what’s so interesting and I think real about Irish cinema – a lot of it seems to be coming from the heart, from an honest place. It’s increasingly harder to find proper financing for films and the most interesting filmmakers need outlets to tell their stories in their own personal way. The IFB is known to nurture and develop talent, allowing filmmakers to find their voice.

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How important is Irish cinema to you?

Oh it’s very important. My first film was entirely made possible by the IFB, with my initial three films all being shot in Ireland. My filmmaking career was certainly born out of my experiences growing up in Ireland.

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Were you a film buff growing up?

When I was growing up I had a lot of interests, and I came to film and filmmaking later than most. I guess I was most attracted to classic European films, filmmakers like Fellini and Bergman and then the big Hollywood blockbusters like Indiana Jones and Star Wars and Jaws, the films I’d watch with my friends. John Cassavetes was also of interest, and I can remember becoming obsessed with The Killing of A Chinese Bookie. That was a film that made a big impact on me when I started to take cinema seriously. 

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Are there any filmmakers who made an impression on you when you first started to look at cinema in a serious way?

Absolutely, yes, Jim Sheridan and Neil Jordan – their work really spoke to me, and still does. They’ve been able to work in Ireland and in Hollywood, going back and forth between small and large projects, movies with big stars and big subject matter and then smaller films that clearly have felt more personal and organic. Those two have had fabulous careers.

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How do you feel about the longevity of the Irish film landscape?

We are in a great spot right now. We have a serious opportunity to create an even more substantial industry that’s already been put in place. The cinematic voices right now are strong and confident. I’m genuinely excited about it. I mean, you’ve got people like Terry McMahon on one end, and John Carney on the other. It’s a vibrant scene right now and it doesn’t seem likely to fade away anytime soon. And I think a crucial role to the success of our industry at home is the role of the Irish government.

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Jumping back to Frank for a moment — it’s such a startling film that hits a lot of interesting tonal notes and goes to some unexpectedly sad and dark places. What was it like when you discovered this project?

The script was so incisive without ever feeling preachy, and that was something that I loved about the project and attracted me to the material. It’s a sad movie but one with a big heart and my hope is that the idea of love and acceptance was conveyed. We always knew it’d be interesting, with Fassbender under that mask, so I guess my goal was to make it as emotional as possible.

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What was your first reaction to Room?

I was bowled over by it, totally emotionally on the hook and devastated. But in the best sort of way. It’s the type of project that could mean one thing to one filmmaker, and quite another thing to a different filmmaker. It’s how Emma O’Donaghue wrote it. The script afforded me the chance to get very visual, which is an area I am very interested in, how to communicate ideas visually, while still allowing for the performance to shine through.

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Brie Larson is magnificent in this film, and after her incredible work in Short Term 12, feels like a true star in the making. What was it like working with her?

She’s just sensational. Really. She can do it all. I was in awe by her every day on the set, and her level of commitment and dedication to her character was so laser precise as to almost be scary. I am just so happy and surprised about the success of Room, and Brie was a huge part of everything positive with this project.

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And working with Jacob Tremblay – how did he respond to direction and the intensity of the material?

He’s an amazingly intuitive young actor, and he brought an incredible amount of maturity to the shoot. Watching him interact with Brie was fascinating on one hand, and sort of sad on another. I don’t think I was prepared to see them bond in the way that they did. If he decides to continue acting, the sky’s the limit for him.

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Were you worried that, despite being based on a popular book, it would have a tough film to sell to large audiences?

Things rarely go this well with a movie this challenging. For Room to be found by a large audience I think speaks to the material and the performances and the universal quality of the story. Making a film that’s based on a popular book is an interesting proposition, and in this case, we were certainly embraced by those dedicated original fans.

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What was it like working with A24? They’ve established themselves as one of the premiere film companies right now, with a slate of movies that can be described as nothing less that tremendous.

A24 made a serious investment in all of us, before they even saw a finished script. With a company like them, one that’s young and energetic and hungry for great material, it was a match made in heaven. They kept plugging away, carefully building our audience.

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Given that you’re a filmmaker with intrinsic ties to the Irish film community, how do you feel right now, overall, about your home country’s film landscape?

Oh, I’m very excited by it. It’s a very vibrant scene right now, with tremendous storytelling talent being cultivated. I don’t think this upward trend is going to fade away anytime soon. I think there’s a big and crucial role that our government can play in the success of the industry back in Ireland, and right now, because of so many serious voices, we have a real opportunity to create a major and lasting industry. People are very excited because of the investments being made by the government in our industry.

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Do you find yourself attracted to Irish stories or Irish material?

I gravitate towards anything that I find compelling on a human scale, whether that’s a story set in Ireland or one set elsewhere. I see myself as a filmmaker who is able to make films in the states and back at home. Irish stories tend to be a bit more intimate and small, sometimes more personal. And those are the Irish stories that interest me the most.

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What do you have coming up in the near future, anything you can share?

I’ve got another picture with Element Pictures, who I worked with on Room, that we’re developing. It’s an adaptation of a book that’s being written called The Grand Escape. It’s a WWI story, something very different than Room and my previous films, but a true story that I feel is very cinematic. I’m very excited about it. I’m also working on a boxing film called A Man’s World. I look forward to new challenges.

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NICOLAS WINDING REFN’S VALHALLA RISING — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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Meditative, head-splittingly violent, and narratively trippy, Valhalla Rising, from auteur in the making Nicolas Winding Refn (Bronson, Pusher, Drive), is not your grandfather’s Viking adventure. Centering on a one-eyed mute warrior-slave, stoically played by Refn’s go-to-guy Madds Mikkelsen in a tremendously forceful performance, who has to fight in order to stay alive while under capture, Valhalla Rising is like some sort of acid-trip nightmare come to life. It appears to have been filmed literally at the edge of the fucking earth, the musical score is brooding and unsettling, the violence is shocking, repulsively awesome, and at times very tough to watch, and the lyrical, loopy narrative takes any number of creative liberties and sojourns. This isn’t an A to B to C type endeavor with a concrete finale that ties everything up – far from it. Very similar in tone and spirit to Ben Wheatley’s black and white descent into madness A Field in England, this is challenging, and for some, frustrating cinema.

Refn isn’t out to coddle or make it easy for his audience, sometimes daring you to look away, and forcing the viewer to take this journey into hell along with a group of disgusting savages. But there’s also a beautiful poetry to his brand of ultra-violence, and when put into historical context (the Vikings weren’t a gentle bunch of explorers), one gets the idea that the brutality shown on screen would have likely been on par to what might have gone down back in the day. He wants you to think and while he makes you think he’s going to screw with your head while bashing it in with a smile. Valhalla Rising feels like a Terrence Malick film crossed with a little bit of Werner Herzog and then a dash of Jerry Bruckheimer thrown in with a sprinkle of psychological horror and a pinch of existential journey and a side order of hallucinogens. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen and for that fact alone it should find its way into your viewing cycle soon if you’ve never experienced it. And trust me, experience is the operative term with this intense, harshly gorgeous, instant cult classic.

Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron – A Review by Nate Hill

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I feel like part of the reason why DreamWorks’s Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron works so well (Ebert noted this in his excellent review) is the fact that none of the animals talk. Although the titular horse is given internal narration by Matt Damon (of all people), not once does Spirit, or any other creature ever speak themselves. This allows for more time spent on music, visuals and storytelling free from banter or exposition. When you have a movie with such sweeping scope and majestic beauty, it’s nice to just relax and let it wash over you, almost like a music video. I’ll always love 2D animation, and here its done exquisitely, the wild frontier rendered in richly colored strokes, the horses vividly brought to life through the illustrations. It’s one of the last classic 2D outings, before the eventual switch to computer generated stuff. Don’t get me wrong I’m just as in love with 3D animation, but I will always have deep nostalgic pangs for this style as well. Someone once told me that cinema is the only art form in which every single artistic medium you can think of can all inhabit the same space, interacting and complimenting each other to create a symphony for all the senses and perceptions. Spirit is a shining example: exceptional drawing and animation, terrific voice acting, and the music, which is a standout. Both the stirring score by Hans Zimmer and the original songs by Bryan Adams are heartfelt compositions which soar along with the visuals in perfect harmony. Spirit is a wild young mustang, who is captured by a vicious Colonel, gruffy baritoned by James Cromwell. He tries to train the horse and break him, but Spirit has that wild spark of vitality that any protagonist of the animal kingdom must posess. He refuses to give in, never losing hope of one day returning to his herd. He is befriended by young native man Little Creek (Daniel Studi) who is also searching for home. The two form an adventurous bond, putting them against man and nature to return to their origins. Mountains, valleys, corals, trees and the untamed northwest wilderness are all presented in a fashion so gorgeous that the colors nearly pop off the screen. It’s just terrific entertainment through and through, never too silly, sappy or frightening, hitting all the right notes along the whole breadth of its breezy 80 minute runtime. DreamWorks doesn’t often give Disney a run for its money, but consider this a glowing exception.

Barry Levinson’s Sleepers: A Review by Nate Hill

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Barry Levinson’s Sleepers is a deliberately paced, downbeat look at revenge, and is one of the most brilliant yet seemingly overlooked dramas of the 90’s. Part of it could have been marketing; The cover suggests blistering violence, confrontation and courtroom intrigue. While there are such moments within the narrative, they live to serve the story, which Levinson and his dream cast are doggedly intent on telling. It’s a sombre affair to be sure, slow and methodical as well, but never to be confused with boring. It’s just such a great story, one that unfolds exactly as it needs to. It starts in the 1950’s, where four young rapscallions run wild on the streets of Manhatten. It kicks the story off with a sort of urban Stand By Me vibe, and if you thought that film went to some heavy placed, stick around through Sleepers. When an innocent prank ends in tragedy, the four are sent to an austere children’s correctional facility, where they run afoul of some sadistic and abusive guards, led by Kevin Bacon, who is scummier than scum itself. They endure months of ritual abuse at the hands of these sickos, until their eventual release. Life goes on, as it must, the four boys grow up and follow very different paths from one another. Michael (Brad Pitt) becomes an esteemed lawyer. Shakes (Jason Patric) lives a quiet life, while Tommy (Billy Crudup, wonderfully cast against type) and John (Ron Eldard) take a darker road to drugs and crime. Eventually their past rears it’s head, and they are presented with an opportunity for much delayed revenge. It doesn’t all play out the way you may think though, and half the fun of this one is being surprised by geniunly lifelike plot turns and characters who behave as real humans would. Pitt is the highlight in a performance of quiet torment. Dustin Hoffman is fun as a washed up lawyer who gets involved, Minnie Driver shows up as a tough NYC gal who gets involved with Patric, Robert De Niro has a nice bit as a kindly priest who counsels the boys even until adulthood, and there’s further supporting work from Jonathan Tucker, Bruno Kirby, Frank Medrano, Brad Renfro, Terry Kinney and more. Levinson usually takes on bright, chipper comedies and razor sharp political satire. With Sleepers he deviates into tragic dramatic material, and shows his versitility excellently. This one gets grim, no doubt about it. However, it’s a story not only worth the telling, but worth the watching for us.

HIGH FIDELITY – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

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Have you ever spent hours organizing your record collection in chronological order and by genre? Have you ever had heated debates with your friends about the merits of a band who lost one of its founding members? Or argued about your top five favorite B-sides? If so, chances are you will love High Fidelity (2000), a film for and about characters obsessed with their favorite bands and music. What Free Enterprise (1999) did for film geeks; High Fidelity does for music geeks. Based on the British novel of the same name by Nick Hornby, it is a film made by and for the kind of people who collect vintage vinyl and read musician and band biographies in their spare time yet is still accessible to people who like smart, witty romantic comedies.

Rob Gordon (John Cusack) is an obsessed music junkie who owns a record store called Championship Vinyl. He has just broken up with Laura (Iben Hjejle), a long-time girlfriend and the latest in a countless string of failed relationships. Rob addresses the audience directly throughout the film (just like Woody Allen did in his 1977 film, Annie Hall) about this latest break-up and how his top five break-ups of all-time inform his most recent one. It’s a great way for Rob to try and come to terms with his shortcomings and the reasons why his past relationships did not work out. He is talking directly to us and in doing so we relate to him and his dilemma a lot easier. And so, he goes on a quest to find out why, as he puts it, “is doomed to be left, doomed to be rejected,” by revisiting his worst break-ups. The purpose of this trip down memory lane is an attempt to understand his most recent falling out with Laura.

Along the way we meet a colorful assortment of characters, from his past girlfriends (that includes the diverse likes of Lili Taylor and Catherine Zeta-Jones) to his co-workers at Championship Vinyl (Jack Black and Todd Louiso). They really flesh out the film to such a degree that I felt like I was seeing aspects of my friends and myself in these characters. Being a self-confessed obsessive type when it comes to film and music, I could easily relate to these people and their problems. And that’s why High Fidelity works so well for me. The extremely funny and wryly observant script by D.V. DeVincentis, Steve Pink, and John Cusack (the same team behind the excellent Grosse Pointe Blank) not only zeroes in on what it is to love something so passionately but why other things (like relationships) often take a backseat as a result. A girlfriend might not always be there for you, but your favorite album or film will. A song will never judge you or walk out on you and there is a kind of comfort in that.

The screenplay also makes some fantastic observations on how men view love and relationships. Throughout the film Cusack’s character delivers several monologues to us about his thoughts on past love affairs, one of my favorite being the top five things he liked about Laura. It’s a touching, hopelessly romantic speech that reminded me a lot of Woody Allen’s list of things to live for in Manhattan (1979). Usually, this technique almost never works (see Kuffs) because it often comes across as being too cute and self-aware for its own good but in High Fidelity it works because Cusack uses it as a kind of confessional as Rob sorts out his feelings for Laura and sorts through past relationships and how they led him to her.

The screenplay works so well because not only is it well written but it is brought to life by a solid ensemble cast. The role of Rob Gordon is clearly tailor-made for John Cusack. Rob contains all the trademarks of the kinds of characters the actor is known for: the cynical, self-deprecating humor, the love of 1980s music, and the inability to commit to the woman of his dreams. Even though High Fidelity is not directed by Cusack, like Grosse Pointe Blank, it is clearly his film, right down to the casting of friends in front of and behind the camera (i.e. actors Tim Robbins, Lili Taylor, his sister Joan, and screenwriters, D.V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink). Along with Say Anything (1989), this is Cusack’s finest performance. I like that he isn’t afraid to play Rob as a hurtful jerk afraid of commitment despite being surrounded by strong women, like his mother who chastises him for breaking up Laura, and his sister Liz (Joan Cusack) who is supportive at first until she finds out why he and Laura really broke up. Rob had an affair with someone else while Laura was pregnant and as a result she got an abortion. This horrible act runs the risk of alienating Rob from the audience but Cusack’s natural charisma keeps us hanging in there to see if Rob can redeem himself.

All of the scenes that take place in the record store are some of the most entertaining and funniest moments in the film, from Rob listing off his top five side one, track ones, to Barry schooling an Echo and the Bunnymen fan on The Jesus and Mary Chain, to Rob fantasizing about beating the shit out of Laura’s new boyfriend Ian (Tim Robbins) when he shows up one day to clear the air. These scenes showcase the excellent comic timing of Cusack and his co-stars, Jack Black and Todd Louiso. The interplay between their characters instantly conveys that they’ve known each other for years by the way they banter and bicker.

Louiso’s Dick is a shy, introverted guy that you can imagine listening to Belle and Sebastian religiously, while Black’s Barry is a rude, annoying blowhard who says everything you wish you could actually say in public. It’s a flashy, scene-stealing role that Black does to perfection, whether it is discussing the merits of Evil Dead II’s soundtrack with Rob or doing a spot-on cover of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” for the launch of Rob’s record label. And yet, Barry isn’t overused and only appears at the right moments and for maximum comic effect. His sparing usage in High Fidelity made me want to see more of him, which is why he works so well. However, Louiso, with his quiet, bashful take on Dick, is the film’s secret weapon. The scene where he tells a customer (Sara Gilbert) about Green Day’s two primary influences which is a nice example of the understatement he brings to the role.

The casting of Danish actress Iben Hjejle is an atypical choice but one that works because she brings an emotional strength and an intelligence to a character that is largely absent from a lot of female romantic leads. She’s not traditionally beautiful, like Catherine Zeta-Jones, who plays one of Rob’s ex-girlfriends, Charlie Nicholson. Sure, Charlie is drop-dead gorgeous but her personality is so off-putting that any kind of deep, meaningful relationship would be impossible. Laura is so much more than that. While Rob refuses to change and to think about the future, Laura is more adaptable, changing jobs to one that she actually enjoys doing even if it means she can’t have her hair dyed some exotic color. Laura is easily Rob’s intellectual equal, if not smarter, and the voice of reason as well as having no problem calling him on his shit.

Nick Hornby’s book was optioned by Disney’s Touchstone division in 1995 where it went into development for the next three years. Disney boss Joe Roth had a conversation with recording executive Kathy Nelson who recommended John Cusack (whom she had worked with on Grosse Pointe Blank) and his screenwriting and producing partners D.V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink adapt the book. They wrote a treatment that was immediately green-lit by Roth. In adapting the book into a screenplay, Cusack found that the greatest challenge was pulling off Rob’s frequent breaking of the fourth wall and talking directly to the audience. They did this to convey Rob’s inner confessional thoughts and were influenced by a similar technique in Alfie (1966). However, Cusack initially rejected this approach because he thought, “there’d just be too much of me.” Once director Stephen Frears came on board, he suggested utilizing this approach and Cusack and his writing partners decided to go for it.

The writers decided to change the book’s setting from London to Chicago because they were more familiar with the city and it also had a “great alternative music scene,” said Pink. Not to mention, both he and Cusack were from the city. I like how they shot so much of the film on location, making the city like another character and even including visual references to local record labels like Touch & Go and Wax Trax! Another challenge they faced was figuring out which songs would go where in High Fidelity because Rob, Dick and Barry “are such musical snobs.” Cusack, DeVincentis and Pink listened to 2,000 songs and picked a staggering 70 cues for the film. DeVincentis was the record-collection obsessive among the writers with 1,000 vinyl records in his collection and thousands of CDs and cassettes. They also thought of the idea to have Rob have a conversation with Bruce Springsteen in his head, never thinking they’d actually get him to be in the film but that putting him in the script would get the studio excited about it. They were inspired by a reference in Hornby’s book where the narrator wishes he could handle his past girlfriends as well as Springsteen does in the song, “Bobby Jean” on Born in the USA. Cusack knew the Boss socially, called the musician and pitched the idea. Springsteen asked for a copy of the script and after reading it, agreed to do the film.

High Fidelity is now a historical document thanks to the rise of iTunes and the subsequent demise of brick and mortar record stores. The film is a tribute to these places where one could spend hours sifting through bins of vinyl records and used CDs, looking for that forgotten gem or a rare deal on something you were looking for. I’m not talking about places like Tower Records or Virgin Megastore but those cool, local stores that catered to obsessive collectors. This film is a love letter and a eulogy to these stores. It’s scary to think that it’s only been more than ten years since High Fidelity came out and indie record stores are almost an extinct breed, except for the ones hanging on in big cities. Even though the world and the characters in High Fidelity are unashamedly of a rarified type: the obsessive music geek or elitist, which some people may have trouble relating to, the film’s conclusion suggests that there is much more to life than one’s all-consuming passion for these things. It also helps to be passionate about someone. And that message is delivered in a refreshingly honest and cliché-free fashion as it provides what is ultimately the humanist core of High Fidelity.